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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23933185">Serenade On Your Heartstrings</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinefromsherwood/pseuds/christinefromsherwood'>christinefromsherwood</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>James Bond (Craig movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Slice of Life, Strong Language, not exactly a mission fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:20:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,777</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23933185</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinefromsherwood/pseuds/christinefromsherwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was still dark when the phone began to ring. Q forced his eyes open.<br/>“Jaaaames.”<br/>“...<em>Ooh love, ooh loverboy</em>…”<br/>“Hnnnnng.”<br/>“Let go. I need to take this.” James’s arms around him tightened, pushing against his bladder. Suddenly wide awake, Q tried to squirm away towards the nightstand and his phone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Bond/Q</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>MI6 Cafe MiniBang</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Serenade On Your Heartstrings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrKsan/gifts">MrKsan</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>written for the MI6Cafeminibang for the prompt: A forgot to kiss B in the morning</p><p>The art was created by the amazingly talented <a href="https://starrboned-art.tumblr.com/">Ksan</a> <a href="https://www.instagram.com/starrboned/">(Ksan's Instagram with so much amazing fanart)</a> and it's ... it's completely gorgeous! Just you wait until you see it.</p><p>Thanks be to Souffle, who is simply the bestest and offered many great suggestions and betaread for me. Thank you lots :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“<em> I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things. We can do the tango just for two… </em>”</p><p>It was still dark when the phone began to ring. Q forced his eyes open.</p><p>“Jaaaames.”</p><p>“..<em> .Ooh love, ooh loverboy </em>…”</p><p>“Hnnnnng.”</p><p>“Let go. I need to take this.” James’s arms around him tightened, pushing against his bladder. Suddenly wide awake, Q tried to squirm away towards the nightstand and his phone. Which was still blaring. </p><p>“...<em> Ooh, ooh, can you feel my love heat? Come on and sit on my hot-seat of love </em>...”</p><p>Q never should have set that song as his ringtone. It used to be his favourite but now that it had woken him up at--he grunted as he stretched and finally managed to get a hold of his plastic phone case--at 5-fucking-am for the hundredth time, his mood soured anytime it came on the radio.</p><p> “<em> ...I'd like for you and I to go romancing. Say the word, your wish is my command... </em>”</p><p>James finally relaxed his grip and, pressing a kiss against his shoulder blade, squirmed closer to listen in as Q accepted the call and finally made the infernal music stop. </p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Sir!” </p><p>Shit. That was Maryam. It had to be serious if R couldn’t be spared to call him herself. </p><p>“There’s been a development in Cyprus.”</p><p>“Fuck,” James murmured against his shoulder. Q nodded and clenched his jaw to suppress a yawn. They’d been hoping that Spiro’s intel was wrong. It was only a bloody YouTube content farm after all. </p><p>“Do you need me to-”</p><p>“005’s been captured, sir!” Maryam interrupted him. Q shot up.</p><p>Oh shit!</p><p>“You’re needed in mission control, sir, and agent Bond is to come in for his kit.”</p><p>By the time Q hung up the phone, James was at his dresser, pulling out a fresh pair of boxer briefs.</p><p>They didn’t bother with making the bed. Shere-Khan had already curled up in the warm mess of their blankets anyway and getting their tabby off without her digging her claws into the expensive Egyptian cotton was always more trouble than it was worth. </p><p>“Have to call the plumber again when I get back,” James mumbled through a mouthful of foamy toothpaste. Q quickly spat out his mouthwash and straightened to avoid minty-fresh spittle in his hair. “This is fucking ridiculous.” </p><p>They were pressed shoulder to shoulder at their single bathroom sink and, from previous experience, Q seriously doubted their plumber was going to be installing a second one any time soon. The unreliable prick. So he just hummed and reached past James for his body spray.</p><p>Over the past couple of months they had got this emergency morning routine down to ten minutes. With the cat feeder needing to be reset, Q knew today wasn’t going to be their new personal best, but still it couldn’t have been longer than fifteen minutes after Maryam’s call ended that he was zipping up his thick leather jacket and handing James his helmet. </p><p>It was when he took a hold of the handles and was reaching for the ignition key on his motorbike that Q first got the feeling he’d forgotten something. </p><p>Nothing to do with the mission, he was sure. Just… <em> something </em>. </p><p>“Did we unplug the kettle?” </p><p>Behind him, James paused with his hands on Q’s hips, then nodded.</p><p>“I checked the kitchen before we left.”</p><p>Q weaved his way through traffic and tried to remember what he'd forgotten. It couldn’t have been the feeder. He’d reset it and checked that it was full. </p><p>The new-hire analysis report HR had requested <em> was </em> still sitting in his workflow untouched, but that wasn’t due for another two weeks. There was no reason for him to feel so... unsettled about <em> that </em>. </p><p>Q slowed to a halt at the last traffic lights. James’s grip on his leather jacket loosened as he went to brush his palm against Q’s side and Q found himself relaxing into the touch. He smiled as the amber light came on. </p><p>Whatever it was, it couldn’t be very important. And in any case, they could sort it out once the whole Cyprus mess was dealt with. It would be fine.</p><p>This confidence lasted him only as long as the rest of the drive to headquarters. The minute he let James off at Gatehouse A, the anxious feeling returned. </p><p>It felt like there was a heavy lead weight on his chest when he walked into the emergency meeting in mission control.</p><p>He <em> had </em> forgotten something. </p><p>And if the sick feeling in his stomach was anything to go by, it was <em> important </em>. </p><p>“005 was captured while investigating reports of suspicious activity at the Limassol waterfront,” M informed the gathered analysts by way of a greeting. An aerial view of a coastal city appeared on the wall-screen behind him with a square directing the focus towards three high-rise buildings.  </p><p>“His orders were to observe the traffic in and out of the residence of one Pavel Aristov, the owner of Heart Media. During his last check-in, 005 reported seeing three people of interest enter Aristov’s flat.” M paused and, with a few touches on his tablet, called up four unremarkable faces on the screen behind him.  “Now these men previously ranked relatively low on our watch list, a status which is being urgently reconsidered due to the latest developments.” </p><p>Q remembered thinking that Aristov looked like Vladimir Putin’s younger and uglier twin when he’d checked in on Fulton’s report the day before. The other three faces and names were completely unfamiliar to him. </p><p>“Spiro had a few of his men do recon for us. It appears that after his check-in, 005 disregarded his handler’s instructions and attempted to place surveillance devices in the flat.”</p><p>Fucking Fulton! Of course!</p><p>“Spiro’s men were able to discover 005’s current location. They’ve also promised to act as ground support for our extraction team. We are deploying 007 and 003.”</p><p>The screen went blank and Q blinked at M in surprise. He could see he wasn’t the only one. Spiro’s fees were not exactly small.</p><p>“Sir,” Eve spoke up first, “are we relying solely on an <em> external </em> agency for support of our <em> two </em> agents in an extraction operation? We have army bases on Cyprus!”</p><p>M’s left eyebrow twitched in a way that Q knew meant he was uncomfortable. Q’s previously unidentified bad feeling began to solidify. </p><p>“Time is of the essence,” M said, looking at his tablet. “This comes from above.” </p><p>Q furrowed his brows. He really saw no reason why any of the bigwigs should be invested in the fate of one agent on a low priority mission. Unless there was more to Fulton’s assignment than MI6 was aware of.</p><p>M tapped at his tablet screen aggressively; Q knew he’d guessed correctly. </p><p>“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Bill muttered from across the table, voicing Q’s thoughts.</p><p>“Major-General Cantrell, the Base Areas’ Administrator, has authorized one MI6 aircraft to land in Akrotiri, provided it takes off the same day with all MI6 personnel on board and his men are not involved in any way. ”</p><p>“Sir?!” Q couldn’t stop his outraged shout. This was ridiculous! They had a tac team on hand! They couldn’t possibly be considering sending James and Abby-</p><p>M threw him a look.</p><p>“The major-general claims the base areas are in a region of geo-political significance and high priority for the United Kingdom's long term national security interests. And that any perceived involvement of British soldiers on Cypriot soil could prove disastrous for the tenuous diplomatic relations in the region,” M kept his expression impassive, but he allowed a sardonic inflection to creep into his voice. “The minister trusts our superior skills and technology will be more than enough to compensate for any tactical disadvantage.” </p><p>And suddenly, as though he’d just had a bucket of ice cold water thrown over him, it dawned on Q. He forgot to kiss James this morning.</p>
<hr/><p>Standing in the stairwell, Q clutched at his lukewarm mug of tea.</p><p>James was always so affectionate. Q remembered how surprised he had been when they first started seeing each other. </p><p>James had always seemed so suave and untouchable at work, but he’d practically plastered himself to Q’s side at the restaurant bar while they waited for their table. And he’d use every opportunity of the door opening and a gush of cold air making Q shiver to drape an arm around him and rub his arms and play with his fingers and “Christ, Q, they’re like icicles!” </p><p>Q remembered how bewildered he had felt.</p><p>“You keep touching me!” he’d finally blurted out towards the end of the night when James brushed his fingers deliberately against the nape of his neck when he was helping him into his coat.</p><p>“My apologies. I will stop.” And James had got that frozen-over look of his he always put on when he felt wrong-footed. </p><p>“NO! PLEASE, TOUCH ME!” James insisted that no one in the restaurant had heard Q’s panicked shriek but Q remembered seeing the maitre d’ and the tables by the door turn around to gape at him. “Just… why?”</p><p>And James had caressed the back of his hand with his thumb. </p><p>“I like you. And you’re very nice to touch.” And he’d smiled. And Q had kissed him.</p><p>Fuck. Shit. Bloody fucking shit.</p><p>Q blew into his mug and took a shaky sip of the stone-cold liquid. </p><p>By the time he had managed to get to his branch, James and Abby had already left. R hadn’t been able to look him in the eye when she told him the jet had taken off and she was to be the one running the mission.</p><p>And after she’d heard him promise life full of misery and permanent red numbers in the bank to one of Cantrell’s soldiers unless there was an armoured SUV for his agents as soon as they landed, she had advised him to step outside. Which he had.</p><p>That was 30 minutes ago. They wouldn’t be landing for another hour.</p><p>“<em> I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things… </em>” M calling. </p><p>Q stared at the neutral blue screen. It was an MI6 phone and there was no way he was going to put anything as personal as James’s pictures on there at all, let alone set them as background. </p><p>That bloody song as a general ringtone was the only concession he’d allowed himself. </p><p>James had laughed when Q called him his good old-fashioned loverboy. He’d laughed so hard he’d managed to drop Q half-way to their bedroom, freaking out both poor Shere-Khan and their downstairs neighbour. And then neither of them could get up because Q was drunk and James was lying on top of him and James couldn’t stop laughing because Q had decided it would be a good idea to start singing: “Hey boy, where do you get it from? Hey boy, where did you go?” really badly. Then, on their anniversary they went to Ritz “at 9 precisely, Q” because James was a dork with a terrible sense of humour.</p><p>“<em> ...When I’m not with you, think of you always… </em>”</p><p>Q had forgotten to kiss James this morning and M had sent him into an absolute shitshow of a mission. </p><p>There were only two explanations for that. </p><p>Aristov had dirt on one of “the leading men of the country” who’d then bribed Fulton into acting like a moron. </p><p>Or James’s long service record was beginning to make someone uncomfortable. </p><p>Q clenched his fist around the phone. Either way, heads would roll.</p><p>“...<em> Hey boy, where do you get it from? Hey boy, where did you- </em>”</p><p>“Yes?” Q barked into the phone. There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. When it became glaringly obvious the honorific wasn’t coming, M cleared his throat and began to speak:</p><p>“Your assistance is required. Roydon’s managed to confirm 005’s current location.”</p><p>“On my way,” Q said and ended the call. </p><p>He’d get Maryam to hack the shit out of that city with him; there wasn’t going to be a single traffic light out of his control. </p><p>He’d get them all out. </p><p>Even that fucker Fulton. </p><p>Maneuvering the doorknob with a phone in one hand and a half-empty tea cup in the other proved tricky. And <em> if </em>, in the ensuing shuffle, Q’s fingers slipped and sent a string of “6666666666” to 007, his most frequently used contact, the stairwell camera was a witness that it happened completely by accident when he was balancing his cup on his phone’s touchscreen.</p>
<hr/><p>It was dark in the flat but that was no way to tell how much time had passed. In November it always got dark early in the afternoon. On Q’s lap, Shere-Khan’s purring was slowly softening and petering out as she fell deeper and deeper asleep. Carefully, Q twisted the hand she was holding hostage to cup her head more comfortably.</p><p>“I think you should go home, sir,” R had told him when the jet had finished refuelling and the pilot signalled for take off. </p><p>She had been calm and competent during the mission, directing the agents through the city, coordinating with Spiro’s team as much as possible. And she had given him and Maryam free reign to smash every firewall on the entire island of Cyprus into smithereens. That was the only reason Q hadn’t told her where he thought <em> she </em> should go. </p><p>“Go home, Quartermaster. Get some rest,” M had then echoed from the corner of the room, left eyebrow twitching. “That’s an order.”</p><p>So Q had gone to wait at home. </p><p>He’d cleaned the litter tray and even scrubbed at the pan from the previous night's dinner for a good ten minutes before giving up and leaving it to soak. </p><p>Then he’d gone to admire the deep gashes in the upholstery of his office chair Shere-Khan had insisted on showing him with a proudly defiant miaow. </p><p>He’d worked on his paperwork.</p><p>And he’d waited. </p><p>Then he’d ordered such a ridiculous amount of take-away that Mrs. Cammareri on the other end of the line asked him if he and Mr. Bond were having a party and did he want some free cannoli for dessert, really, it would be her pleasure. </p><p>The take-away had come, a stack of cannoli included, and then Q had waited some more.</p><p>“Mrrrp?” chirped Shere-Khan. She had twisted her head up to look at him, one leg outstretched, claws ready to knead. Q rather liked this sweater, so he tickled her toe beans to distract her. </p><p>“I know, pet, I know. He’ll be home soon.”</p><p>He reached out to scratch behind her ear and suddenly found his hand trapped in a mad flurry of claws and teeth.</p><p>“Mrroooooow.”</p><p>“Ow, what are you-” Shere-Khan began to lick at the scratches. Q shook his head and huffed out a laugh. </p><p>“Oh, you are so not getting any of that cannoli cream,” he promised and risked his other hand to boop her on the nose.</p><p>And then suddenly, she was off, ears and tail up, vaulting off the coffee table into the… <em> hallway </em>. </p><p>Keys rattled in the lock and Q might have knocked the remote control off the couch and stomped on it in his hurry but he <em> could not give less of a fuck </em> because James--</p><p>“You’re home. Jesus fuck, you’re home,” he groaned into the crook of James’s neck, digging his fingers into his jacket. </p><p>“Darling,” James’s voice rumbled in his ear and through his jacket against his chest. He smelled of gunpowder and sweat and James and home. </p><p>“You’re home.”</p><p>“I’m home.”</p><p>“You’re not hurt?”</p><p>“Not even a graze.”</p><p>“Thank fuck.” James tasted of gunpowder and sweat and James and home. Q kissed him hard, running his fingers through his hair, gripping his jacket, pressing himself closer. Because James was home and he was safe and Q had forgotten to kiss him in the morning and he was not letting him go any time soon.</p><p>He could feel James’s calloused fingers against his chin, stroking his cheek, as James tilted his head to kiss him deeper, better, more.</p><p>But when Q moaned, it wasn’t in pleasure. Shere-Khan had decided she was done with being ignored and attacked their feet. </p><p>“Owowowow, stop iiiit,” Q yelped, trying to keep his balance. James’s shoulders shook as he bent down to pick up their tyrannical cat. “And you, stop laughing! You don’t know! You’re wearing shoes!”</p><p>“Yes, darling.” Of course, the moment James picked her up Shere-Khan began purring like a jet engine, rubbing the side of her head against his jaw as though she’d been starved of affection for centuries! </p><p>“Horrid beast!” Q accused her playfully and he could swear she turned to grin at him. </p><p>“A vicious tiger,” James agreed, scratching under her chin. Shere-Khan purred proudly.</p><p>They went to sit on the couch, side-stepping the mess of plastic shards and rubber buttons on their way. Q supposed they wouldn’t miss the remote. These days there was nothing much on telly anyway.</p><p>On the couch, he tucked his feet under him and, leaning against James’s chest, joined his hand in Shere-Khan’s belly fluff. The cat stretched luxuriously across their laps. A horrid, vicious tiger, indeed.</p><p>Feeling James’s lips against his temple, Q smiled and pressed himself closer, enjoying the solid warmth of the arm behind him. </p><p>He was home.</p><p>“Fulton?” he asked softly, running his fingers up the back of James’s hand. </p><p>“Rotten bastard,” James mumbled into his hair. Q nodded.</p><p>“Abby?” </p><p>James inhaled sharply, resting his forehead against the side of Q’s head.</p><p>“Off. Really fucking jumpy.” </p><p>That, of course, could mean everything and nothing. Still, Q was glad that he had warned him. That they had thought to establish the code.</p><p>Jesus fuck, they were lucky.</p><p>“You’re home,” Q whispered against his lips and kissed him again, stroking the sensitive skin behind his ears, making him shiver.</p><p>They sat in silence for a while, watching the shadow of the table lamp move against the wall as cars passed in the street below, ruffling Shere-Khan’s fur every once in a while and smoothing it down again when she chirped at them unhappily. </p><p>“Have you sent it yet?” James asked after Shere-Khan decided she’d had enough human interaction for one day and stalked off to her cat tree. </p><p>Q shook his head, reaching to his pocket. “I was waiting for you.”</p><p>And suddenly they were looking at each other, phones out, thumbs at the ready, and Q realised he was fighting a giggle.</p><p>“On three?” he asked with a shaky grin. James shook his head. </p><p>“Now!” </p><p>
  <em> Message sent. Undo? </em>
</p><p>“They won’t think I’m serious, you know,” James said, looking down at the phone in his hands. “Not this time.”</p><p>Q shrugged his shoulders. “That’s their problem.”</p><p>James grabbed his hand. “But I hope <em> you </em> know that I am.” </p><p>“Well, third time’s the charm, isn’t it?” Q grinned at him. His smile softened when he saw the worried look in James’s eyes. “I wouldn’t have spent half a year helping you research alternative career options if I didn’t think you were serious, love.” </p><p>And in any case, <em> Q </em> didn’t have a history of quitting MI6 only to come back a few months later, so that should give their soon-to-be-ex-bosses a clue. </p><p>“<em> I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things… </em>” M calling.</p><p>Q burst out laughing. </p><p>“Well, that didn’t take long.”</p><p>James chuckled. “You should put it on silent.” He gestured to his own screen which kept flashing <em> Maybe: Tanner </em> soundlessly. </p><p>“No,” Q said, shaking his head. “I want to actually enjoy this song again.” </p><p>James nodded.</p><p>“...<em> ooooh love, oooh loverboy </em>…” Freddie crooned and Q realised he was grinning like a loon when James tugged him into his lap and sang along with Freddie: “What’re you doin’ tonight, hey boy!” </p><p>Q’s surprised laughter sent them sprawling to the floor. The phone kept ringing. </p><p>“That was so bad!” Q choked out, glasses askew.</p><p>James sniffed. “<em> That </em>was romantic!”</p><p>“Uh-huh.” Q raised his eyebrows doubtfully and then had to squirm away from James’s tickling fingers.</p><p>“It was! I’m very suave!”</p><p>“Suuuure.”</p><p>“Come on, listen to Freddie and ‘come sit on my hot-seat of love’!” Q stopped and stared at him. James was grinning, thoroughly proud of himself. </p><p>“Oh, that was<em> terrible </em>, you’re terrible!”</p><p>“No, what I am is your good old-fashioned lover boy.” Q put his head in his hands and groaned. It was the happiest he’d ever remembered being.</p><p>“Now up, up! You really need a shower.” </p><p>Q looked at him incredulously. He wasn’t the one who’d run up and down Limassol harbour searching for a shipping container. “<em> I </em> need a shower?”</p><p>Tapping a finger on his chin, James nodded magnanimously. </p><p>“I’ll come and keep you company.” </p><p>The phone may still have been ringing but they didn’t hear it in the bathroom.</p>
<hr/><p>The next morning greeted Q with a furry tail in the face and a purring jet engine on his chest. He opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow at Shere-Khan’s butt.</p><p>“I really meant it, you know,” he slurred out. Their cat looked at him over her shoulder. “You don’t get to even smell the cream on those cannolis.” </p><p>“Mrrrrp.”</p><p>“No, pet, I don’t care if you’re a unique cat specimen who doesn’t fart after lactose.” Purring intensified with added kneading dangerously close to his groin. Q winced. “It’s still not good for you.”</p><p>“Hnnnng?” A clumsy hand smacked against Q’s side as James turned over to huff his morning breath against Q’s ear. </p><p>“You’re fine, love, go back to sleep. It’s early.” </p><p>Which was true in a way, he’d scheduled their exit interviews for early afternoon.</p><p>James grunted again and hid his face in the gap between their pillows. Q tickled his ear lightly and got up to make breakfast. </p><p>In the kitchen, Shere-Khan raised herself up on her hind legs against the lower cupboards and gave Q a look that was both dreadfully injured and pleading. He<em> had to </em> dip the tip of a teaspoon in one cannoli and add it to the top of her dry food then.</p><p>She fell on her bowl hungrily like her larger, slightly more evil namesake.</p><p>“Horrid beast.”</p><p>When he got back to the bedroom, precariously balancing two plates with slightly soggy cannoli on two cups of tea, James was already sitting up against the headboard.</p><p>“Good morning.” James was smiling. From the window behind him, the morning sun shone through his ears and messy hair like a ridiculous halo.</p><p>“Morning, love,” Q said and kissed him.</p><p>THE END</p><p>
  <br/>
<strong>
    <em>
      <a href="https://starrboned-art.tumblr.com/post/616853601625735168/my-art-submission-for-the-mi6-cafe-minibang-i">"A moment before" by Ksan</a>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please, please, let me know how you liked it? </p><p>Also go to Ksan's <a href="https://www.instagram.com/starrboned/">Instagram</a> and leave her lots of comments! That is absolutely not optional, people!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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